1 Kings 19:19-21 So he departed from there and found Elisha the son of Shaphat, who was plowing with twelve yoke of oxen in front of him, and he was with the twelfth. Elijah passed by him and cast his cloak upon him. 20 And he left the oxen and ran after Elijah and said, “Let me kiss my father and my mother, and then I will follow you.” And he said to him, “Go back again, for what have I done to you?” 21 And he returned from following him and took the yoke of oxen and sacrificed them and boiled their flesh with the yokes of the oxen and gave it to the people, and they ate. Then he arose and went after Elijah and assisted him.
Luke 9:62 Jesus said to him, “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”
When Elijah cast his cloak over Elisha in the field, it wasn’t just a symbolic act — it was a divine call. Elisha understood this and responded not with delay or excuse, but with decisive action. After asking to say goodbye to his parents, he returned, slaughtered his oxen, and used the wooden yokes as fuel for the sacrifice. Then he gave the meal to the people and walked away from everything familiar to follow the prophet Elijah.
Elisha didn’t just leave his past — he burned it. The plow, the oxen, the life he once knew — all of it became a sacrifice. He didn’t just say yes to God’s call; he made sure there was nothing to go back to.
Now consider the words of Yeshua (Jesus) in Luke 9:62: “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”
Yeshua wasn’t speaking to farmers. He was speaking to His followers. To those who say “yes” but keep glancing in the rearview mirror. Elisha didn’t just put his hand to the plow — he let it go entirely. Yeshua warns that any heart still attached to the old life, any disciple still wondering “what if,” is not truly fit for the work of the Kingdom.
There’s a high cost to discipleship. It requires a clean break from the past and full focus on the future God is calling us into. Looking back implies regret, reservation, or second thoughts. But the Kingdom of God advances through those who have burned their plows and never looked back.
The call to follow the Lord isn’t partial—it demands everything. It’s not just about saying “yes” with our lips, but showing it with our lives — cutting ties with comfort, releasing control, and refusing to look over our shoulder. If there’s still a plow in your grip, it’s time to let go. Burn it. Walk away fully. Fix your eyes on the One who calls, and follow Him without regret, without delay, and without looking back — for only then will we be truly fit for the Kingdom. For the Bridegroom is calling to His bride: Get ready — I’m coming soon!
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]These verses capture one of the most profound Messianic truths in all of Scripture. What man cast aside, God exalted. What the builders saw as flawed and unfit, God chose as the foundation of His eternal plan. Yeshua (Jesus), the rejected One, is the very cornerstone upon which salvation, identity, and destiny are built. This is more than a theological concept — it’s a divine reversal that reveals the heart of redemption. Rejection by man does not disqualify–it often qualifies you for God’s greatest purposes.
These verses are far more than ancient lyrics — they are a spiritual invitation. The psalmist doesn’t just admire the gate — he pleads for it to open. “Open to me the gates of righteousness…” This is the cry of a heart that longs for access to God, not by merit, but by mercy. In Hebrew thought, gates represent transition points — thresholds between the common and the holy, the outside and the inner court, the temporal and the eternal. These are not man-made doors — they are divine entrances into the presence and promises of the LORD.
As we continue our study in Psalm 118, I want to take a deep dive into verses 17-18, where the psalmist makes one of the boldest declarations in all of Scripture: “I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the LORD.” This isn’t the voice of someone untouched by pain — it’s the cry of someone who has been through the fire and come out declaring God’s faithfulness. This statement is not a denial of suffering; it’s a defiance of death. It’s the resolve of a heart that’s been chastened, refined, and pressed, yet remains confident in the God who preserves life — not just for survival, but for purpose.
Over the past two devotionals, we heard the song of the redeemed and stood at the wells of salvation. We saw how strength, song, and salvation flow from Yeshua Himself — how the joy of drawing from His presence is not just a poetic promise but a lifeline for our day. Yet today, we stand at a prophetic threshold. Something has shifted. Something has broken open. We are not only being refreshed — we are being awakened and called.
Yesterday, we heard the anthem of the redeemed rise like a trumpet blast: “The LORD is my strength and song, and He has become my salvation.” We explored how this was more than personal — it was prophetic, Messianic, and generational. We saw Yeshua not only as our Deliverer but as the very embodiment of God’s strength, the melody of our praise, and the fulfillment of every promise. We stood in awe as tents of rejoicing rose in the midst of warfare, and households became sanctuaries of celebration. But today, we go deeper — we step to the well.
There’s a reason this verse resounds like a national anthem of the redeemed. It’s not just a personal declaration—it’s a generational cry that echoes back to Moses at the Red Sea (Exodus 15:2) and forward to the final deliverance of Israel. The Hebrew word for salvation—Yeshua—makes this verse unmistakably Messianic. It isn’t a vague deliverance. It is the revelation of Yeshua (Jesus), the Deliverer, who embodies strength, becomes our song, and stands as the fulfillment of God’s redemptive plan.
The cry that shattered the stillness of Golgotha—“My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Psalm 22:1; Matthew 27:46)—was not a random cry of despair, but the deliberate voice of Yeshua pointing to Scripture. As He hung on the tree, bearing the sin of the world, He invoked the ancient words of David—not only identifying Himself as the righteous sufferer, but signaling that Psalm 22 was unfolding before their very eyes. In that moment, heaven and earth bore witness to a divine mystery: the Holy One, seemingly abandoned, was fulfilling a prophecy written a millennium earlier. Yeshua did not merely suffer—He fulfilled every word, every shadow, every stroke of divine prophecy.